When in Rome, Don't Drink the Sweet Tea
by Emery Saks
Summary: When Peggy Carter's tea isn't served correctly, she has a few choice words for her waitress.


"Excuse me? Miss!"

The young woman returned to the table she'd just left and eyed her expectantly.

"What seems to be the problem, ma'am?"

"I distinctly told the other waitress I wanted tea," Peggy Carter said, her clipped English accent bouncing on the T.

The waitress glanced at the amber liquid in the glass and shrugged. "Looks like tea to me," she grinned.

Peggy pursed her lips in disapproval. "While I realise most Americans probably relish this sweetened monstrosity, I do not." She pushed the glass toward her.

"Careful," she warned with a wink. "You start insulting the South's favorite beverage, and I can't be held responsible for Susannah's actions." She nodded at the older woman bustling behind the counter.

"And I'll take a tea, please. Earl Grey, if you have any."

"Sure thing, English," the waitress smiled. "I'll be back with that quicker than a New York minute!"

Peggy glanced up in surprise as the waitress walked away from the table. First they ruin a perfectly good tea and now this waitress, who did not sound like she belonged thus far South, gave her a ridiculous nickname. She would never understand Americans.

Not for the first time, she silently cursed Howard Stark for sending her down here on this godforsaken temporary assignment. There had to have been at least three other people who could have handled it, but no, here she was, stuck in the land of tobacco and cotton and thoroughly out of her element.

"One Earl Gray as ordered."

Peggy looked up as the waitress slid a cup in front of her and placed a small tin of milk, a slice of lemon and cup of sugar beside her.

"I wasn't sure if you needed these, but I figured it couldn't hurt."

"That's perfect, actually," Peggy confessed, surprised at the gesture. She glanced at her name tag. "Thank you, Angie."

"You're welcome, English!"

"Peggy," she offered, reaching out a hand. Angie glanced at it for a moment before taking it with a smile. "Nice to meet ya, Peggy."

Peggy looked at her curiously. "Pardon my forwardness, but you don't strike me as... ah..."

"Being around from here?" Angie asked with a knowing grin.

"Precisely."

"'Cause I'm not," Angie shrugged. "I'm from Brooklyn, but I had a nasty break up and my folks thought some time away would be good for me. Uncle Joey needed help, so here I am."

"Ah," Peggy nodded. "My sympathies for your relationship troubles."

"No worries," Angie assured her and leaned in, dropping her voice. "Trust me, she was a mess, and I'm doing much better without her."

Peggy's eyes widened at this seemingly personal bit of information. "Oh. I see." She cleared her throat and looked around the small restaurant. "And your family is okay with…you, ah?"

Angie smiled and propped a hand on her hip. "Being gay?" she laughed. "Back home, absolutely. Down here? Bit of a different story."

Peggy nodded. "I see."

Angie looked around with a sigh and then leaned in, lowering her voice. "Look, I'm gayer than than the day is long, but I'm not shouting it from the rooftops, if you know what I mean. I'm proud but that doesn't mean I'm stupid, and it might be legal now, but that don't mean people around here necessarily like it."

Peggy nodded her head. "Yes, I've noticed people aren't as open-minded."

Angie glanced at her in surprise. "You local? Because I haven't seen you before, and I'm pretty sure I would've remember seeing you," she said with a saucy grin.

Peggy stared, somewhat taken aback by her forwardness, and then smiled. "Temporary transplant. I'm down here on business for a few months."

"From England?"

Peggy laughed. "Dear Lord, no. I haven't lived there in ages."

Angie gave her a curious look. "Then?"

"New York City."

"Oh my God! We're practically neighbors!" Angie squealed.

"So it would seem," Peggy said dryly.

"We should grab a bite after I get off work and trade stories," Angie exclaimed and then stepped back, seeming to realize her overzealous tone. "I mean, if you're free and you want to. I could show you around town?" she offered.

Peggy took a deep breath, trying to process the whirlwind that was her waitress. She seemed harmless enough, and they were both from the same city. It would be nice to talk to someone a little more open-minded than the people she'd spent the last week with at the office. Besides, she thought, giving the woman a discrete once over, she was cute as hell. What harm could come of accepting a dinner invitation?

"Dinner would be lovely," she said slowly and felt a pleasant tingle in her stomach when Angie grinned at her.

"Great! It's a date!" she winked and then turned at the sound of another waitress calling her name. "I gotta' run, Peggy, but here's my number," she told her and leaned over to scribble the digits on a napkin. "I get off at 6. Text me your address, and I'll pick you up at 7:30, 'kay?"

Without giving Peggy a chance to respond, she bounded off toward the counter, and Peggy watched, eyes dancing in amusement.

"That woman is a ball of energy," she murmured to herself. She briefly wondered if she should've turned down the invitation, but then chuckled. No. If nothing else, dinner was sure to be amusing. She imagined Angie could and most likely would provide her with a running commentary of the town she was temporarily relegated to, and that alone would be worth the cost of a meal.

Finishing her tea, she stood, fished out a five dollar bill and tucked it under her cup. She would need to see about going home and finding something to wear. It'd been a long while since she'd been out socially, and she found herself wondering what exactly one wore on a quasi first date in small-town Alabama when they wanted to knock the socks off a New York City waitress.


End file.
